The official portion of my breakup with Mack lasted less than a week. I broke the news of the death of our relationship to family and friends on Tuesday February 8. On Monday, February 14, we were back in the sack. That’s right, Valentine’s Day. Obvious, I know. Mack sent me flowers and chocolates to the office. But that’s not what caused me to reexamine my feelings for him. I had invited him over for dinner before I knew he’d ordered the flowers. What caused me to shift was feeling a shift in Mack. I felt an easing of the hostility, which was replaced with tenderness. I felt his earlier feelings for me were returning. And in turn, I felt more tenderly toward him.
I wanted to see him for Valentine’s Day. I wanted to be with him. So I sent him a note inviting him for dinner Sunday or Monday night. I knew the odds of him coming for dinner on the actual Valentine’s night were slim to none, seeing as he lives with someone who has prohibited him from seeing me. So when Mack picked Monday night, I was very surprised. It seems spending a night meant for lovers together with me was important to him, too. I wonder if that’s the moment my heart truly began to thaw.
It was a lovely night. Being with Mack felt like it used to. Before he moved in after knowing each other for two months. Before he moved out on that awful Sunday. Before the weeks of fighting and making up. Or at least pretending to make up; for the animosity and anger smoldered, still. As soon as he arrived, we made love, desperately, frantically; Mack, as dominant as ever, and me, eagerly submitting. We drank champagne, grilled steaks, and I made my authentic, and unsurpassed, Caesar salad. We ate by candlelight at the dining room table, like we used to, when he lived with me. After dinner, eager to return to the lovemaking, we left the dishes in the sink. This time we made love tenderly, sweetly, slowly. And afterward, I sobbed in Mack’s arms.
Mack and I have gone nearly a week without a single argument. He came over again Wednesday night, and the desperate desire and loving, tender feelings continue to replace the anger, resentment, and hostility. I’m trying to not question things. I’m doing my best to live in the moment and not fret over where things are headed. Or not headed. Being with Mack makes me happy. I don’t know how long this will be enough, but right now, it is enough. Right now, I know that my love for Mack is very much alive, still.
It seems it is possible, after all, for a drowned corpse to come back to life, sucking in sweet, sweet oxygen. That there truly is a chance for life after death.